by LaQuette
“Where the fuck is my son, Sanai?”
She didn’t say anything. First, because it was so strange to hear someone else refer to Nazario as their son. He’d been hers and hers alone from the moment she’d learned she’d conceived. Second, she didn’t particularly like his tone. Yeah, he’d given her some bullshit-ass excuse for why that mystery lunatic had come for her, but nothing so definitive that it kept the blame from resting on his shoulders.
“Sanai!”
She trembled, not from his yelling, but because she suddenly remembered why her son wasn’t at home.
“He’s in the Bronx with my friend, Becca. She watches him sometimes when I work back-to-back shifts.”
“When are we going to get him?”
The word “we” felt like hot metal slicing through her skin.
“Dante, my son doesn’t know anything about you. You can’t just roll up to him tonight and tell him who you are.”
“The hell I can’t.”
He was filling the space in her bathroom doorway. Chest expanding and contracting in angry swells, making him appear more beast than man. She needed to slow this down; pouring fire on the situation was only going to cause her more problems.
“Dante, please,” she begged. “Right now isn’t a good time. Learning he has a father could do more harm than good.”
“Sanai—”
“He’s sick, Dante,” she countered. The throbbing ache she’d been swallowing since Nazario’s diagnosis lodged in the middle of her chest and spread to her throat, making breathing an almost impossible task. She closed her eyes, determined to keep the tears that threatened away. Tears were for the weak, and she refused to be weak in front of this man.
“What do you mean he’s sick?”
The closeness of his voice forced her to open her eyes. He was at her side of the bed, sitting down close to her on its edge.
“Sanai?” His deep voice was filled with a strange mix of confusion and fear. It was a foreign experience to hear that tone in anyone else’s voice but her own.
“He has leukemia,” she struggled. The coarse word scraped her throat as the words climbed out of her mouth. “Becca is his pediatrician. She diagnosed him around the time I ran into you in the PICU. He’s going for his first round of treatment tomorrow in the oncology department where I work.”
She looked up at him, watching the creases on his brow. Watching as her words penetrated his mind and formed meaning behind his eyes.
“How bad is it?” he whispered.
“Early stage, thank God. But it’s still serious. We’ve decided to go full speed ahead with chemo and radiation. He’s going to be in the hospital for a while. The treatment is just as hard on the system as the disease. But if we can stop it now…”
She couldn’t even finish the rest of that sentence. Her mind wasn’t in a space yet where she could think about the alternative to the decided therapy not working.
“I worked my last shift last night. I’m technically on family medical leave for the foreseeable future, so I can be by his side every moment he’s going through this. This battle is gonna be a difficult one. Becca thought he could use some fun and I could use some rest before it all begins. She asked to keep him to give us both what we needed before we walk into hell.”
He nodded, his eyes still dancing with questions he seemed either too stunned or too polite to ask. Since polite had never been Dante’s strong suit, she figured he was still trying to process everything she’d told him.
“I’m supposed to join them tonight for pizza, and we’re all going to have a sleepover at Becca’s tonight. We’ll leave first thing in the morning for his first chemo appointment.”
He placed a gentle hand around hers. “Call your friend and let her know you’re bringing company with you.”
“Dante, I can’t just walk in there with you. I just told you he’s sick.”
“Yes, Sanai, he’s sick. And if you think for one moment I’m not going to be there every step of the way you’re crazy. I’ve missed your pregnancy, watching you grow with him. I’ve missed every second of his life for the five years he’s been on this earth. I’ll be damned if I miss another moment. You don’t have to introduce me as his father, but I will be there tonight, Sanai.”
He moved toward her bathroom, turning halfway to look back at her. “What’s his name, Sanai?”
She swallowed, trying to push the gravel in her mouth down in order to speak.
“Nazario Michael Ward.”
She watched sadness darken his eyes, his jaw twitching briefly.
“You named him after me but never planned to let me know he existed?” He didn’t wait for an answer, just shook his head. “Tonight, you’re going to take me to meet my son.”
Chapter Six
Dante’s fingers ached from gripping the steering wheel so tightly. Once Big Tony’s family moved to the Bronx in Dante’s late teens, learning to navigate the area had become second nature to Dante. He knew the path from Brooklyn to Pelham Bay but struggled to stay focused. He’d nearly missed his exit twice on this trip so far as a result of his nerves.
He was going to meet his son. He had a son. One who apparently was nearly his twin. One who bore Dante’s middle name as his own. He remembered telling Sanai how special that name was for him. That every first-born male child for seven generations bore that name as a badge of honor and place in his family. His son was going to have that name, and Dante was going to be so proud to present him to the rest of his family.
She gave his son the name, but she’d stolen all the pride and joy he should have experienced from the moment the child was conceived.
He gave himself a mental shake. He couldn’t think about that right now. He was on his way to meet a child who would have no clue of Dante’s true connection to him, a child who was battling for his life. Thinking about this situation was pissing him off even more, but fighting with Sanai wasn’t going to help anything right now. Now he just had to focus on his boy, because he couldn’t believe life had brought him to Nazario just to watch him die as soon as he’d found him.
He let out a tired sigh as he pulled into a parking spot on the street. Sanai had even managed to rob him of his anger. Something he was certainly entitled to in this situation. But he needed to do what was best for the child.
He went to open his door and felt her place a calm hand on his arm.
“Let me go in first. Prepare him.”
“What are you going to tell him?”
She leaned her head back against the headrest and nibbled on the corner of her bottom lip. If he weren’t so disgusted with this entire situation he’d find it endearing that she still hadn’t broken herself of that silly little habit in so many years.
“Let me go in first…alone.”
Everything in him railed against that idea. She must have sensed his displeasure, tightening her grip on his arm.
“Dante, I’m all he’s had. He’s never seen me bring anyone around him in such a personal manner.”
“What about Bernie?”
“Bernie has never had any involvement with my son. He helped me get to New York safely and convinced his grandmother to take me in. When he visits Mrs. Rossi, Naz and I are gone long before he arrives. If I wasn’t going to share your son with you, I wasn’t going to share him with anyone else either, Dante.”
He glanced at her. Her honesty wrapped around him like a thick blanket, abundant and reassuring. It wasn’t much of a consolation, but it was something to know she’d not shared what was his with someone else.
“Just let me tell him you’re an old friend of mine, and that you’ve come to spend some time with us.”
“Just how long am I supposed to let this lie persist, Sanai?”
“Just let me slowly start introducing the idea of him having a father in his life.”
“Hasn’t he ever asked about having a daddy?”
She dropped her eyes from his, and she fell back into her seat. She looked weary, as if
she couldn’t pull herself from that seat if the cushions beneath her were on fire.
“Yeah, once,” she muttered, twisting her shaking fingers together. “When he was about three we were sitting down watching one of those cartoons they always bring on at Christmas. He saw the kids playing with their dad and asked where his dad was.”
Dante shifted in the driver’s seat. Learning the boy he’d never known existed had asked for him hurt. Nazario was the child Dante had always dreamed of. Nazario was the son of Dante’s future that he’d mourned when Sanai “died,” and their dreams of a family with her. All of it made Dante feel raw inside.
He cracked his window open just a little. The air in the car was too still, too heavy with grief and anger. He didn’t want that stench on him when he was so close to meeting his son for the first time.
“What did you tell him? That I ran away, that I abandoned him?”
She slowly shook her head and turned to meet his gaze from across the car.
“I told him that you didn’t know about him, and that if you’d known you’d love him more than any little boy in the world, and that I had to leave before I had a chance to tell you about him.”
Tears slid down her face, and he had to fight to keep from reaching out to her to offer his comfort. Instead he fastened his fingers around the steering wheel again and squeezed until the need to hold her left. Fuck that! She’d wronged him, kicked a hole in his heart, and hadn’t given enough of a fuck to worry about how her choices might impact him.
Was she wrong for leaving? No, Dante knew firsthand the threat she’d come in contact with that night. He understood all too well what would have happened if her mystery assailant had found her alive, carrying his child. There was no doubt in his mind that bitch would have finished the job. But Sanai had to have known he would have protected her from the devil himself. If she’d run and told him what happened once she was safe, they could have figured something out. Their son would have had his father, and they’d be an intact family unit instead of this angry broken mess they were now.
Be mad later, Dante. Right now, go meet your son.
“Tell him whatever you need to tell him…for now. But understand me, Sanai, I’m not going to wait too much longer to claim what’s mine. You stole everything from me when you put this plan of yours in motion.”
“I had no choice; I was running for my life.”
“You had a choice. You made the wrong one. You chose not to trust me. The result is my son spending the first five years of his life without me. Five years, Sanai. I’m not about to lose another minute. You prepare him as best you can without upsetting him, but very soon in the near future that boy will know who and what I am to him.”
He turned his attention back to the windshield. He wasn’t watching anything in front of him, couldn’t say what was passing in front of his eyes if he’d tried. He just couldn’t look at her. Looking at her made him want to break things, and catching some kind of charge for being out of control just wasn’t an option right now. He needed to be in control, keep his head and his temper.
The thud of the closing door snapped him out of the near-trance he sat in. He took a glance out the passenger window to watch Sanai climb a few stairs and open the door to her friend’s building. While he watched her walk inside, the phone in his pocket vibrated.
“Dante,” the voice sang when he answered. “How are you, my darling?”
The sweetness that dripped through the phone line made fire burn inside his chest. Her tone—like every other quality about her—was so poised, so gentle, so…deadly. “Tomassa. What can I do for you?”
“I miss my husband, Dante. When are you coming home?”
Dante blew out an exhausted breath. His tolerance for whatever bullshit Tomassa was mixing up was declining quickly.
“If we were husband and wife in any way that mattered, I might actually be touched by that statement.”
“My dear Dante, always so quick to remind me of our business relationship,” she mewled. “The decision to not consummate this marriage was yours, not mine.”
Considering all he’d learned in the last few hours, it was a decision he was grateful to have made. “I don’t play where I do business, Tomassa. Our business can be a deadly one. Keeping a clear head free of complicated emotions is necessary for survival.”
“Says the man who runs to New York when a silly boy lands in the hospital after doing something stupid,” she quipped.
“I’ve told you before, Tomassa, you don’t ever get to tell me what to do and who to care for. Know your position and play it, or face the consequences. Now, is there something specific you wanted from me, or is this just another of your bullshit sessions?”
She was quiet for a beat, probably biting her lips to keep from speaking. She was pushy, but she knew never to push Dante beyond his limits.
“I’m having problems with the Gallo deal. That prick Clemente Gallo is trying to cheat me. I need you to come back home and make certain he sticks to the agreed-upon terms.”
“You need me?” Dante questioned. “I didn’t make this deal. I’m the one that told you not to fuck with Gallo, and you went ahead anyway.”
“Dante, you know how some of the men in our business are. Sometimes they need Don DeLuca to remind them that Donna DeLuca’s word is as potent as his.”
She wasn’t wrong; men in their business circles didn’t have much respect for women. He’d said as much to Tomassa when she’d cooked up this scheme to combine his family’s power with that of her father’s. But she wouldn’t be swayed. She’d insisted that he could unify the organization, and she could take control of her father’s interests through Dante’s name.
“Tomassa, there’s nothing I can do at this moment. I’m needed here in New York. If you need to, you can take Bernie with you. His presence should help your negotiations.”
“Dante—”
“You have my answer,” he interrupted.
“I’m your wife,” she countered.
“Not in any way that matters. What you are is a business partner, and in my absence I should be able to depend on you to get things done.”
He ended the call before she could speak again. Talking to Tomassa at this moment, with his emotions on boil, wasn’t a good idea. She had a knack for targeting him during weak instances. That was how he’d found himself bound to her in a fake marriage that was beginning to tighten its deadly fingers around his neck.
He needed to keep his head clear and above water. He had to think things through and step carefully. Six years ago he’d made a stupid decision based on the hurt and agony of loss. Tomassa wasn’t someone to be taken lightly. Controlling her had never been a real issue for him, but then again he’d never had this much to lose either.
For now, he’d keep her at bay, but he’d have to return to Florida soon enough and deal with his wife before she could cause more damage than she’d already wrought.
Chapter Seven
He looked through the window again and saw Sanai waving at him from the front door. He pulled in a deep breath, trying to settle the nerves dancing in his chest. His boy was behind that door. He was about to meet his son for the first time.
He opened his car door and took the few short steps to the stoop. Sanai opened the door wider and let him step inside. He followed her through the small hall and into the first-floor apartment of the two-family home.
He swept his eyes across the open living room and kitchen looking for the boy. He found a petite blonde woman instead. She was leaning against the island counter that separated the living room from the kitchen with her arms folded across her chest.
She had that, “I don’t like you because my girl doesn’t like you,” look plastered on her face. He forced himself to keep from rolling his eyes. He wasn’t really up for all of that, but he wasn’t about to do anything that would keep him from meeting his son tonight, either.
He offered his hand to her. “Dante DeLuca.”
She cut her ey
es to the right of him, looking for Sanai. A brief and silent exchange passed between them before she returned his gesture by shaking his offered hand. “Becca Stevenson,” she responded. “That little boy in the back is pretty special. I don’t know you, and I’m not really interested in seeing if you have what it takes to be a dad to him. I’m pissed as hell at Sanai for her part in this, but I’m telling you now—don’t fuck up, not now, not with everything he’s about to go through. If you’re one of those run-when-life-gets-hard types, don’t bother stirring his life up.”
He found himself smiling. This woman didn’t look more than a hundred pounds, yet she was getting in both their faces about the wellbeing of his son. He couldn’t even find it in himself to be mad or offended at the way she addressed him.
“Becca, if I’d known he existed, there would have been nothing that could’ve kept me away from him.”
“But you hurt my girl,” she answered.
He shook his head. He’d fucked up, yeah, but he hadn’t been the one to hurt Sanai. He wasn’t about to let her lay that at his feet.
“Whatever hurt Sanai experienced wasn’t at my hands. I promise you, the only thing I want to do is protect them both.”
She fixed her gaze onto his, looking for the truth in his words. He wasn’t sure if she found what she was looking for, but she nodded and pointed toward the couch. He nodded in thanks and took a seat at the end of the couch.
Sanai sat on the coffee table in front of him and took his hands in hers. “He’s a really happy kid and he tends to be friendly with strangers. He won’t be uncomfortable unless you are.”
Dante nodded and tried to still his shaking hands in her grasp. He looked up just in time to see this tiny person walking into the room.
Dante felt his heart beat harder and faster with each step the child took toward him. He looked small, but then Dante hadn’t been around enough children to have a frame of reference for how tall a five-year-old should be.
